


Séjour

by silvered_glass



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come play, Lost summer days, M/M, Reluctant feelings of all sorts, Slightly Non-Linear Narrative, Sommelier Louis, Writer Nick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvered_glass/pseuds/silvered_glass
Summary: It issoquiet, which should be conducive to concentration, but Nick is bored and listless and lonely. He’s been there for two days and wants to know where the helpful lady is who’ll deliver him a gamine but takes-no-shit housekeeper who he can fall in love with without words. Words are not his friend.“Where is myLove Actuallymoment?” he asks the ceramic kitchen sink as he pokes holes in the cover of one of the M&S ready meals he brought over with him.«≠»Nick’s got writer's block. Louis is a master of distraction.«≠»





	Séjour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplerplease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplerplease/gifts).



> Thank you for your prompts simplerplease! I never would have written anything set in France, or along these lines and I really enjoyed writing this. That said, I did write this as a pinch hit, and it might not be what you imagined for the prompt, but I hope there is something here for you.
> 
> To the amazing [Jiksa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiksa/pseuds/Jiksa) and [icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight) thank you for the beta readings and all the encouragement (all errors remaining are my silly fault) and to my LOL chat - Thank you for the lol's. And all the other things; hand holding, Gif usage, counselling, generally providing me with the ability to function.

 

Cabrières d’Aigues isn’t where Nick had meant to end up. He’d been reading Huxley’s _Brief Candles_ when he made the booking. Had been thinking a lot about the futility of it all, the transience. The lack of purpose in what was, essentially, meant to be his purpose. He’d also been three quarters of his way through a bottle of whiskey.

When he woke up the next morning, having passed out on his couch, his dogs were looking at him somewhat askance as if they knew what he’d done. There was the same damn letter on the coffee table and next to that his fourteen percent-of-battery-left laptop was blinking a holiday cottage booking confirmation screen at his bleary eyes.

He’d driven to France as soon as he’d booked the dog sitting service. And was sober enough to do so.

It’s not on the beach. He’s staying on the French Riviera and it’s not on the sun-kissed shores of the Mediterranean. He’s sure that Fitzgerald, Hemingway, and Huxley never set foot in the ancient and mostly lovely cottage, which inexplicably has a very nineties salmon coloured kitchen installed, that he’s managed to book himself up in the hills.

There is a lot of dried wheat in jugs, a huge wall of bookcases full of books that all seem to be in French, and board games, and an impressive collection of porn on DVD. From the French doors in the open kitchen and living area is an amazing view into a sun-bleached valley of lovely neat grape vines. And there is utterly no WiFi. The bathroom has not been renovated and comprises a chain flush toilet, a bath without a shower-head and plumbing that shudders and groans every time Nick asks it to work.

It is _so_ quiet, which should be conducive to concentration, but Nick is bored and listless and lonely. He’s been there for two days and wants to know where the helpful lady is who’ll deliver him a gamine but takes-no-shit housekeeper who he can fall in love with without words. Words are not his friend.

“Where is my _Love Actually_ moment?” he asks the ceramic kitchen sink as he pokes holes in the cover of one of the M&S ready meals he brought over with him.

“Derivative bullshit anyway,” he tells the microwave as he pushes start.

 

On the third day he goes to buy wine.

Louis isn’t who he meets first. The first person is a girl, blonde and friendly and knowing. She quips that she hates spitting while they are doing a tasting and Nick can’t take any more.

“I do too, love,” he drawls, more Northern than he’s been for years. More Northern and camp and the effect might be a little lost in the translation because the lovely French girl just smiles blithely.

Louis however sings out from behind the bar, “Swallow it all do you? Don’t like to spill a drop?”

Nick hadn’t even seen him before. But there he is. A white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, an apron tied tight around his waist and his blue eyes glinting in the dusty sunlight spilling in from the open window. He’s definitely not French, he’s more Northern than Nick and there's definitely been nothing lost in any translation. Nick fancies him straight away.

Nick swallows. Then wipes his thumb at the side of his mouth and makes a show of sucking it into his mouth.

“I’ll take half a dozen of the two thousand and twelve,” Nick tells the girl while looking right at Louis.

“No, I’m a ninety-one,” Louis corrects with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

 

 «≠»

 _I have five sisters one brother and I couldn’t pass me exams. I didn’t want to tell my Mum about fucking up at WSET ‘cos I always fucked up at school so much. This is a_ _Bourboulenc from the next valley. So you can’t technically call it a Bourboulenc, not from the right region. It’s smokey and tricky and can’t properly be grasped. Drink with grilled veggies or alone before sending me dick pics._

«≠»

 

Nick starts out his stay with the best of intentions. Important to have a routine, important to keep mind and body fit. So he drives down to Pertuis and buys two kettle-bells, makes an effort to get up early and lift them above his head and heave them around in a vague impression of how his trainer has shown him. Every day he runs the track towards the lake. He doesn’t go all the way, just runs for half and hour and then turns around and runs back up the hill. The sun is too hot even by ten o'clock and after he showers he sits at the table in front of the open doors and stares over the top of his laptop screen at the rows and rows of grapes.

It’s only been a week.

His laptop is with him always. Nick sits with it at the lovely worn farm table while he eats the most amazing fresh bread he’s ever had with butter for breakfast. Brings it with him to the bathroom and looks at it while he has a morning bath. Which feels boringly indulgent, having a bath every day but only because he has to because there’s no shower head. The bath is freestanding and the horrible old pipes still as angry as ever, parts of them green with rust that he sees shapes of monsters and wild things in as he stays too long in the cool water.

His laptop sits on the lid of the toilet and Nick misses Netflix. And his dogs. And his words.

Nick lays in the bed at night and thinks about how many people have laid in a bed in that spot for centuries and centuries. Imagines looking down on the village at everyone on their own, or in pairs laying in their beds. In this village, in this country. Imagines the bird's-eye view pulling further and further out and how many people, so many people. In their safe beds. Curled around each other. Nick’s alone.

That’s the night he gets up and dressed and uncorks a bottle of the wine that he’d bought from the cellar door the other day and wine bottle dangling from one hand, goes for a walk.

 

«≠»

 

Louis’ room is a big open space with a bathroom in the corner. It’s up above the cellar door, which is attached to a small restaurant that Nick has never seen open, even though it’s the height of summer. It’s a messy space with unwashed dishes and piles of clothes spilling out  of a suitcase on the floor. Pushed right up against the front window is a mattress perched on what seems to be a bed frame made out of wooden crates. It’s old and has springs which poke up at odd places and make a bouncing noise when Nick tries to sink down into it. Nick doesn’t want to think about how old it is, or the various equally ancient blankets covering it up.

It’s good enough though. Good enough for when Louis walks over from the tiny rickety table, glass of red in his hand and with no hesitation just climbs onto Nick’s lap. Nick doesn’t touch him yet. Even as Louis is literally getting himself settled so he’s a lovely weight straddling Nick’s thighs

“Where’s my glass?” Nick asks instead.

“We can share,” Louis says and drinks.

Louis sips and swallows without looking away from Nick, makes sure Nick is watching him in return. He hums in satisfaction and wiggles deliberately. Nicks fingers itch with the need to move.

He pauses as if to asses his work and then, after a moment’s more consideration, Louis’ eyes all warm he says, “Alright, here we go,” and holds the rim of the glass up to Nick’s mouth.

Nick already knows this will end with wine all over his Dior linen shirt, but he tilts his chin up and parts his lips. Louis pours carefully. Folds his lips inwards while he does it, focused on Nick’s mouth. It’s a nice wine, when Louis wobbles the glass just slightly and some trickles down over Nick’s chin and rushes in a line down his throat Nick is sad to waste it.

Louis pulls back and inspects his work, his lips lifting at the side, “A little more?” he assesses and tips the glass to Nick’s mouth again.

This time he’s more deliberately clumsy. Basically just lets more wine spill over Nick’s lips and down his throat and then with assumed instruction passes the glass to Nick to hold. Louis licks up, from Nick’s collarbone, over his Adam’s apple and the scruff of Nick’s chin and then kisses him. Mouth wet and hungry and impatient. Louis swipes his tongue in straight away and grinds down onto Nick all while sliding his hands into Nick’s hair.

Nick’s still not touching him. He’s got the half-drunk glass of wine in one hand and the other clutching at a moth-eaten blanket beneath him.

When Louis pulls away his lips are wet and his eyes hooded and he looks so pleased with himself. He leans back and pulls his t-shirt off in one movement.

“You should make me come,” he tells Nick.

“Going to put this glass down,” Nick says, moving his free hand to grasp Louis’ side. His fingers spread out across slight ribs and the curve of Louis’ waist and Nick knows that this has already gone too far. First touch and Nick knows he’s not going to want to let go of this one.

 

Nick doesn’t actually make Louis come that night. Louis puts The Doors on the ancient record player in the corner and then pulls his pants off in one movement with his jeans and walks back towards Nick palming his own cock. Nick tries to remember what it all looks like so he can write it down later. Something in this is a story he’s sure. But there’s no time for thoughts. Louis stops just before Nick and raises an impatient eyebrow.

“Take off your trousers?”

And when Nick has finished letting his trousers and pants fall onto Louis’ dusty floor Louis pushes him with a soft touch to Nick’s chest so he falls back onto the mattress. Louis climbs back where he’d been before, straddling Nick but now with their hard cocks next to each other, and Nick’s hands cupping Louis’ arse.

Louis kisses him as messily as he had just before. And he licks his palm and wraps his hand around Nick’s dick and says with his lips moving against Nick’s cheek, “You’re big.”

Nick’s not going to say he doesn’t love it. He does. Louis makes him come very quickly. His hand not even able to get down the length of Nick’s dick because of how he’s sitting. But it’s not about the touching even, it’s more the smell of Louis’ hair and the way he’s so hungry in how he kisses Nick, and the fact that he’s fucking fit. And how Louis whispers horrible things when he’s not kissing Nick.

“You going to come all over my dick Nick? Want you to mess me up. Make me dirty and wet.” Louis gasps out, hips moving sympathetically with Nick’s own. “I want you to come back tomorrow. Lick me out until I’m shaking. Come all over my hole and lick me more.”

“Fuck,” Nick hisses, “dirty mouth.” Nick can’t joke though, can barely speak.

“How much do think you could make me come? Want you to ruin me for anything else, can you do that? Make me a mess,” Louis whispers into the skin of Nick’s neck. Punctuates it with a scrape of his teeth. “Make me a mess,” he repeats, almost pleading.

Nick comes with a shout and his legs trembling and his head thrown back. Fucking up into Louis’ hand and hoping - hoping - _hoping_ that he’s covered Louis’ dick and stomach and chest with his come. Hoping it’s the mess Louis wanted.

When Nick opens his eyes, Louis is swiping his fingers through come that’s landed on his stomach and then rubbing over the head of his own dick.

“Watch me,” he says. Nick thinks maybe Louis is asking.

“Can’t look away love,” Nick tells him. His hands still holding Louis in place, but somehow again not being allowed to touch.

 

«≠»

 

The morning Nick leaves to go back to London Louis makes him stop by the cellar door. Over this last week Louis has got increasingly mulish and silent. Has not been kissing Nick to distract him whenever Nick would complain about how long he’d be in the car for during his drive home, or how early he’d be getting up in four days, three days, two days, tomorrow. 

And now tomorrow is today and it’s a little after five in the morning and Nick’s standing awkwardly by his car as Louis lifts three boxes of wine into his boot.

“Want a hand?” Nick asks.

“No,” Louis huffs. He stops, box lifted in front of him and Nick could lick the curve of his bicep. Has. Should again.

“Louis—” Nick starts.

“Anymore than that and you’d need an import certificate of summat I think,” Louis interrupts. “You better get off, don’t want to miss your train."

“The shuttle leaves all the time,” Nick mumbles. He’s got heartburn or acid reflux or something. Has done all week. It’s all the swallowing of his words.

“Bye Louis,” he says and wraps his boy up, arms around his shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of his soft hair. He smells like Louis. Smoke and lavender and _Louis_.

“Don’t forget the videos,” Nick says, little strands of Louis’ hair caught in his mouth, and those damn words in his throat.

 

«≠»

 

Louis is on all fours. Nick’s world has narrowed to where nothing else exists apart from the line of Louis’ back and sweat beading on Louis’ skin. The stupid penguin on his arse cheek and the white hot tight clenching heat of being inside him.

“Fuck me,” Louis orders and Nick already is so he can’t do more than that, except push Louis’ shoulders down onto the mattress, grab his hips in firmly and dick into him deeper. His muscles hurt and he doesn’t quite know how Louis wants this to end but he thinks it’s probably the same as the first and second and third time did. Thinks it’s probably with Louis being made a mess of.

Nick pulls out with a groan and while Louis makes an indignant, almost pained noise Nick strips the condom off his dick and twists Louis onto his front. Louis is sweaty, fringe matted and stuck to his face and his eyes are wet and his dick is thick and hard and it’s only a pass or two of Nick’s own hand before he’s coming over it.

“Use it,” Louis hisses and Nick does.

He can touch now. That’s been established, that Louis likes Nick touching. Seems to prefer it from all else, doesn't seem to want to talk really, says no every time that Nick ventures towards asking if Louis wants to have dinner, or watch a movie in the evening when he finishes his work. But Louis lights up when Nick touches him. Turns equal parts pliant and demanding. Always rushes things to sex, there’s nothing drawn out about the preamble. But they don’t fuck perfunctorily. Louis likes to play. He likes to talk. So long as it’s while they are fucking.

Nick wanks Louis off even while still gasping for his own breath. Works him over with his hand firm and makes sure to rub his thumb over Louis’ slit in the way he’s learning makes Louis gasp and uses his other hand to rub another splash of come into Louis belly.

“Do I look a state?” Louis gasps out. “Fucked up and yours? Is it enough yet? Is this what you want?” It’s what Louis wants, Nick knows. So it’s what he wants.

“You look a mess love,” Nick agrees. Louis comes then. He comes, and it’s so fucking hot that Nick thinks maybe he could just go again. Louis is so shattered by it, chest heaving and a hand fluttering over his own chest and down his body to find Nick’s fingers and join them in rubbing Nick’s come into his own skin.

 

They have a shower this time. Louis’ bathroom is the same as the one at Nick’s _gîte_ , a standalone bathtub and a toilet with a chain to pull to flush. The bottom of the bathtub has bits of enamel missing and rust showing through. Louis’ water can’t get hot but he stops soaping himself up to kiss Nick and somehow that’s scalding enough.

 

Nick puts his pants on and shuffles around Louis’ space while he waits for the kettle to boil on the gas. Apart from the record player and the mattress and the suitcase of exploding clothes, the only other furnishing is the little table that’s covered with bottles of barely drunk wine with torn bits of note paper covered in almost illegible writing sat underneath all of them.

Nick’s not sure how Louis got here. He suspects nothing in the room, apart from the wine bottles and their notes, and the clothes, belongs to him.

 

“Do you even like The Doors?” Nick asks him while they eat their pot noodles.

“Who?”

“Your records,” Nick explains.

Louis is slurping a long noodle into his mouth and he looks toward the records confusedly. “Oh. No. Not mine,” he confirms.

“Where are you from?” Nick asks.

Louis holds his head to the side a little and doesn’t answer, just looks at Nick as if deciding whether to respond.

“We should go to the lake tomorrow,” Louis replies.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mmm,” Louis confirms. “If you want to know things, we can do something in the day. I can’t be honest at night.”

“Oh,” Nick says.

 

He can be though, Louis. He’s been honest every night since the very first one. When Nick had wandered down the hill drinking from his bottle. Louis had been leaning out the front window of his flat above the cellar door smoking. Nick had been able to watch him for a few moments before Louis had spotted him. Louis lit by a combination of the big July moon and light thrown from a window across the _rue_. Nick had almost tripped on a cobblestone watching as Louis had blown a slow breath out and tilted his face up to watch the smoke float away.

“You need a glass for that bottle,” Louis had called out as soon as he’d seen Nick walking towards him. “You should come up and borrow one.”

 

«≠»

_We’ve been to the lake together fifteen times. The first time you drove me there I thought you were a shit driver. This is a Sayah grape. It’s not grown as much in the south but this blend is tall and clumsy almost and reminds me of your hands on your car wheel and the way you slipped over in the mud walking out of the lake that first time. Drink with red meat or late at night before sending me dick pics._

«≠»

 

Nick thought they’d walk to lake, but in the morning after they leave Louis' little flat Louis turns right and starts up the hill instead of down.

When they get to Nick’s little cottage, Louis touches everything. He orders Nick to go upstairs and get into his swimming trunks and then without pause starts poking around. Nick stops on the bottom step and watches him as Louis opens Nick’s laptop and shuts it again. Opens and flicks through and shuts every book that’s set up on the kitchen table next to the laptop. He takes an apple from the fruit bowl and wanders over to the bookcases.

“Do you have a telly?” Louis asks, looking at a DVD.

“Yeah, up in my room.”

“Alright then. If you’re too busy watching me to go and get ready, I’ll come up with you.”

“Just watching you snoop at my stuff,” Nick replies as he ducks his head to go up the stairs.

“What’s your next book on then?” Louis says and Nick stands up straight in shock and bangs his head on the doorway to his bedroom.

“How—” Nick starts his voice sounds high to even his own ears.

“I know who you are, seen you on the telly and ‘me old best mate loved that book you wrote first off.”

“Oh,” Nick says, rubbing his head and not looking at Louis. His stomach is a knot. Has Louis read his work? Does Louis like his work? Does Nick want him to have read his work? Probably best if he hasn’t. Nick’s stomach turns over.

“Your mate didn’t like the second one then?” Nick tries for jovial, instead of any of the questions.

Nick goes into his bathroom and cleans his teeth.

 

Louis puts porn on the telly. Of course. When Nick comes out of the bathroom all minty fresh and heart still in his mouth Louis is sitting on the end of the bed, leaned back on one arm with his legs spread open and his other hand holding his dick through his swimming trunks.

“What is this?” Nick asks. Two men and girl on screen, the girl laying back on the first guy while the camera pans down her body and zooms in where the second man is going down on her. Licking up her pussy and pulling away to show the camera how he’s plunging two fingers inside her.

“Come and suck me while I watch this?” Louis asks. He never says _will you_ , or _can you_ , or _do you want to,_ but somehow anything he says always sounds like a question. That Nick could say no. Nick never wants to.

Nick leans over and grabs one of the flat pillows from the head of the bed and drops it on the painted floorboards before he drops down himself.

Louis pulls his shorts down to under his knees and he stops Nick from going down on him straight away, slips his fingers under Nick’s chin and touches his dick to Nick’s lips. Nick opens his mouth and lets Louis rest the head of his cock on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you come on my arse last night?” Louis asks.

Nick’s utterly confused for a moment. His mind once more just focused on what’s in front of him. Louis’ dick, hard and touching him and making his mouth water with the need to taste him. The scent of him, the sounds from the DVD in the background. The pinch of a gap in the old floorboards making itself felt through the pillow on Nick’s knees.

“I wanted to,” Nick tells him. “All open, wanted to come all over you, work it back inside you with my fingers.”

Louis makes a little moan at that. He’s moving his hand now, squeezing tight over the head of his cock and just using short strokes. Nick can see he’s getting himself wet.

“Yeah, you wanted to come on me?”

“Course I did, love. Always want to mess you up, always want to be on you.” Nick doesn’t know what he’s saying. Just knows Louis wants it said. Louis has been clear and honest always about _that_.

The girl in the DVD moans and Louis looks behind Nick at the sound. Nick licks out then, tongues at the head of Louis cock, is pleased at the way Louis gasps and looks back down at Nick. It’s a moment to grasp and Nick does. He knocks Louis’ hand away from where he’s holding himself and wraps his own hand around Louis’ dick while taking him inside his mouth.

Louis swears.

Nick’s not sure if Louis looks back at the telly or not, he keeps his eyes shut as he swallows Louis down. Works his tongue against the underside of Louis’ dick even while taking the whole of him deep in his mouth. Nick pushes himself, getting Louis’ dick wet and when he pulls off with his mouth, toying with the head of Louis’ cock Nick makes sure to keep his hand firm and moving.

He does look at him when he pulls off completely and licks broad stripes up the length of Louis’ dick. And Louis is watching him. No pretence. His eyes are dark and hooded and his mouth is parted, little hitches of breath giving him away.

It makes something rush inside Nick. His own cock is hard and Nick thinks wildly for a moment about pulling himself out so he can work himself over as well. But there’s another exaggerated moan from the telly and Nick wants to make Louis come. So instead he keeps working Louis over with his hand and instead tongues and sucks gently at one of Louis balls.

He smells clean but like sex, and Louis, and it’s delicious and when Nick’s thumb finds the head of Louis’ cock it’s dripping wet again. Nick wraps his mouth round Louis’ dick again, fingers toying with his balls, and Louis makes soft grunts as his dick hits the back of Nick’s mouth.

“I’ll come,” Louis pants. And Nick’s not sure if Louis is telling him to warn him, or because he wants what he always wants Nick to do to him, wants to pull out and come on Nick; but Nick doesn’t want to be covered in Louis come. He wants to swallow. Wants the satisfaction that this was all him. Not Louis own hand, not the fucking DVD, it’s Nick. So he slips his fingers from Louis’ balls to the soft skin underneath and with a thumb rubbing at the vein on Louis’ cock he lets him come down his throat.

“Fuck - fuck - _fuck_ ,” Louis swears as his legs twitch with each pulse of his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Nick pulls off and swipes his thumb at the corner of his mouth.

“Not a drop,” Louis says and laughs.

Nick realises as they drive down the D9 towards the lake that he doesn’t think he’s heard Louis laugh before then.

 

«≠»

 

A lazy afternoon about five weeks into Nick's stay in Cabrières d’Aigues and Louis isn’t even watching this DVD, but it's on in the background. Nick knows it for what it is now. Has learnt Louis enough to know some things. Not enough things, but some. And the porno is simple, Louis is trying to be annoying. 

He’s got all the pillows surrounding him and is reading one of the French books from the downstairs book shelves, mouthing the words silently as he does and when Nick brings him up a chamomile tea he blinks up at him and smiles. Nick has to tell him that he's got to go home in ten days. 

“Can I switch off the porn?” Nick asks, sinking down onto his side of the bed.

“I love videos,” Louis replies. Yet another question that Nick has asked Louis and not received an answer to. “When you get home you have to send me videos yeah? Send me videos of you wanking, I’ll send you ones of me and I want you to watch them on your laptop and video you getting off to me on your phone and send it to me.”

Even before Louis has finished speaking Nick has reached into the little bedside table and got out the lube. He takes the tea cup from Louis and passes him the lube.

“You want to show me now don’t you love?” Nick says, hopes Louis doesn’t make him look at his face, Nick thinks he can handle watching Louis get his own dick all wet and hard and make himself come all over himself but if Louis gets a look at Nick’s face right now he knows how he feels about him will be written all over it.

 

«≠»

 _This is a_ _Ugni Blanc blend. If it was from Italy it’d be called Trebbiano. I came to France because I didn’t want to be called a fuckup. You know that. I think I thought I’d just come over here and fuck around and not think about it all but I came to fucking France. Where all the wine is from. My sister is still laughing at me. I am shit at distractions. Apart from kissing. Good at distracting you that way. Although I know you knew I was doing it. You saw through me. This has got a bit of lemon and minerals and you could have it with a carbonara. Or alone at night before sending me dick pics_

«≠»

 

“I’m not writing anything,” Nick tells Louis on the fifth day of his fourth week in Cabrières-d'Aigues.

They are in bed. There’s another porno on the player, Louis puts one on every time he comes over. There are twenty seven DVDs. Nick counted them the other day. He has nineteen more Louis visits if it goes by DVD watching.

Nick should go home soon though. He’s going to have to tell them he doesn’t have anything for the draft soon. Going to have to repay the advance, probably.

Louis is reading a textbook. He’s studying for his diploma from WSET. Or he was. Nick’s not sure of the exact status. Louis isn’t good at details. He often climbs on Nick’s lap and starts kissing him when Nick asks questions. Which. Which is fine. Nick likes the kisses maybe even more than he did that first night. Louis is still hungry with them. Doesn’t do soft or lazy. Always seems to want more when he gets his mouth on Nick’s. And with the way Louis kisses, it never ends there. Nick always wants more as well.

Nick does want more.

So he says it again. “I have no words, got the first fifteen thousand and that is all.”

“That sounds like a fair few,” Louis says.

“It’s not the whole story.”

“You should write something else.”

“What?”

“Write something else that gets the words started again.”

Nick’s flopped down on his back. Staring at in the beams in the ceiling and the spider webs in the corner above the low doorway to the stairs.

“How long are you planning to stay in the village for?” Nick asks Louis.

There is rustling and Louis stands up, putting his book down on the bedside table pages first. In the way that Nick wants to tell him will ruin the spine.

Louis is taking his pants off, his mouth ticked up in a smile and his eyes running the length of Nick’s body. It makes Nick feel warm. It’s pavlovian now maybe. Nick’s so used to Louis interrupting him that he almost starts to get hard just trying to ask Louis a question about his life.

When he climbs back on the bed and goes to position himself astride Nick, Nick is ready for him. Flips them over so Louis is underneath him and kisses him much more chaste than Louis does.

“I'm asking because I actually want to know, not because I want get fucked and know you'll try that to distract me.”

“I wanna come,” Louis says.

Nick doesn’t think he does though. His dick is under Nick’s thigh and it’s soft. And Louis gets hard quickly. Nick’s learnt this. He kisses like he’s hungry and as if you're already fucking, he gets hard and drippy and likes having his slit played with. He loves it when Nick comes on him, or tells him how much he wants to come on him or does both at the same time. He lives on pot noodles and carries apples around but never eats them and he sleeps with a part of him always touching Nick even on the hottest July nights, and he fast forwards all the pornos to the cunnilingus scenes and he listens only to The Doors but while he’s tidying up at closing time at the cellar door he sings only Arctic Monkeys.

Nick kisses him again. Not giving into it. Just giving him something to take the sting away. Something that Nick hopes Louis hears.

“I failed already, my exams. Have to start again. Not going back.”

“To London?” Nick asks, gives Louis a kiss, a gentle suck of his lower lip.

“To Doncaster. Can’t go back. Not enough money for London. Go home and tell them I fucked it all up again? No.”

Nick splays a palm on Louis’ tummy, stretches his fingers up his flank and feels the ribs underneath.

“What do you tell them then?”

“What I do, I say that I work for a winery. They don’t know I’m just a sales assistant. They don’t know you need not be a proper sommelier.”

“But—”

“It’s okay.” Louis mouth is set in a line. “I have a plan, got a man who’s going to pay for me to go back and finish.”

“Who?” Nick is alarmed.

“ _Mr. Sauriac_ , the _vigneron.”_

“Where you work?”

“Cellar doors aren’t normally open like that here you know, I’m trying something for the summer, helping him to grow his business.”

“It’s so quiet in the village though?”

“We get a bus load every other day, I’ve got a mate who runs tours for OAPs out of Marseille, he sends them up.”

“And this old wine maker is paying for you to go to school.”

Louis laughs.

Nick feels himself blush, “What?”

“You sound jealous. You shouldn't be. If you're going to be jealous of anyone it'd be me mate in Marseille, Nick, not the old man.” Louis bucks his hips up, “Sort of mate who knows just how much a mate likes to gag on another mate’s cock if you know what I mean.”

Nick cuts him off with one of those types of kisses that Louis likes. The messy, hungry ones. The ones that say _I'm yours and you consume me_. 

 

«≠»

 

When he gets home to London Nick is amazed at how cold London is already for Autumn.

‘ _Well of course it fucking is, especially fucking compared to the fucking south of fucking France, Nick!’_ his editor Gillian laughs at him when he complains.

She doesn’t make him repay the advance, it doesn’t even come up, because as soon as Nick’s through the door of his house he’s writing again and by the time he meets with her the following week he’s got another fifty thousand words and reworked the motivation for the accomplice to be willing to assist Nick’s main character.

He remembers to get the uber to drop him at the corner shop and buys some milk and walks up his street humming She’s Electric. That’s when he goes past the car and remembers the wine in the boot.

 

It’s another two days after he lugs the three boxes inside that he actually pulls a random bottle out of one and realises that they all have tasting notes stuck on them. Almost illegible but utterly wonderful word filled, _facts about Louis filled_ tasting notes.

Nick sits on the floor in the hallway and the dogs come out and sit with him while he pulls out thirty six bottles of wine and reads the smudged notes attached to each bottle and decidedly doesn’t cry.

When he’s finished reading the last one he stands up with a groan, and goes up to his bedroom two stairs at a time. Shuts the door with a slam and tries to undo his jeans with one hand while simultaneously searching under his pillow for his lube and wishing for a third hand to open up his phone camera already. He’s pretty sure that Louis and him are in love, or at least a close approximation of love. And he's pretty sure he might have fucked it all up with his silence over the past ten days. So, right now the most romantic solution Nick can think of is to urgently send Louis some nice pictures of Nick having a wank. Possibly a video as well. 

 

«≠»

 

“So I can watch the clouds,” Louis answers. He’s not watching the clouds, he’s running his finger through the hair on Nick’s tummy, his face resting on Nick’s chest and Nick never thought about _this_ being a place that they could be. 

London, Nick's bed. Louis curled up and lazy and a gentle comfort.

“When I can’t sleep I like to watch the clouds, so I put that fucking horrid mattress up against the window.”

“Should I move my bed?”

Louis moves his head and looks up at Nick, his chin digging into Nick’s chest. “That’s nice of you,” he says and pulls at Nick’s tummy hair.

“Ouch! You shit.” Nick bats at his hand.

“I’ll be fine sleeping while I stay at yours though, won’t I?” Louis grins, teeth all sharp and delicious. “To busy from me studying. And from you, going to get you to wear me out properly every night I'm here.”

Nick’s sticky with sweat and drying come and when he’d finished fucking Louis just before his arms had almost given out holding Louis’ hips up as he fucked him with Louis’ legs over his shoulders but damn - Nick could do it again. Could wear him out properly.

Nick rolls them both over so Louis is caged in underneath him and lets Louis kiss him the only way Louis knows how. Hungry and with promises of more.

 

«≠»

 _This is a ros_ _é made with_ _Grenache. Once you’ve had it on a summers day you’ll never fucking want anything else. So in that way it reminds me of you. Drink it with me. Send me dick pics until that can happen._

_«≠»_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I'm [silveredsound](https://silveredsound.tumblr.com/post/181583690155/s%C3%A9jour-by-silveredglass-rating-explicit) on tumblr if you'd like to chat.  
> This fic must live here and here alone.


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